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An outfit that truly understands how to get you hammered ought to be able to manage the aftereffects. Bradley's does: No sooner have they cleaned up from their raucous late-night blowouts than a new shift arrives to serve gargantuan breakfasts and brunches. Seven days a week from the crack of dawn, this is food calculated to soak up whatever booze you have left in your system — heavy-duty sponges like the "BLT breakfast" stack of eggs, bacon, and tomato; shrimp and grits; roast chicken burritos; Philly cheese steaks; and blue cheese bacon burgers. Named for Colonel E.R. Bradley, the hard-drinking, gambling, horseracing Irishman who opened a casino on Palm Beach (he raised four Kentucky Derby winners and undoubtedly nursed many a julep-flavored hangover), the saloon has six fully stocked bars — one with plashing fountain, others with screens tuned to the ball game — all open to waterfront breezes good for soothing jangled nerves. A Sunday brunch buffet dishes waffles and hair-of-the-dog mimosas, but it's those tranquil Monday-morning breakfasts when the place is mostly empty — eaten to contemplative views of the Intracoastal — that really shore you up to get past humpday.
Thanks to great strides in the craft beer revolution, finding quality brews at restaurants all across South Florida has been a lot easier this past year. But one place in particular makes seeking out rare and unique beers a way of life. That would be Brother Tuckers, a Belgian-style beer hall hidden away in Pompano Beach. The place is somehow still as much a secret as the crazy list of little-known beers it trucks in on a weekly basis. Scan the handwritten chalkboard by the bar and you'll find brews like Wild Devil, a naturally fermented IPA/Belgian variant from Victory, and Gemini, an unfiltered imperial ale from Southern Tier. They stock obscure saisons from the likes of California's Bruery and even local selections from Inlet and Native. The staff are all total beer geeks too, always game to wax poetic over the candy-like quality of a good quadrupel or to make sure that every beer you order ends up in the perfect glass — chalice, snifter, or otherwise.
Simplicity is the key to avocados, and Rocco's understands this. They don't mess with mayo or blenders or any such absurdity. A waiter wheels out a cart loaded with fresh avocados and a mortar and pestle. He throws in some cilantro, tomatoes, onions, and a dash of Rocco's secret spice mix, which includes paprika and other goodies. Everything is mashed together in front of your salivating stare. The result is addictive. Scoop this stuff up with crunchy, fresh tortilla chips — also dusted with secret spices — and you won't be able to stop.
Ignore for a moment that the Ritz-Carlton is arguably the best place in Manalapan to experience how the other half lives — though it's hard, what with that dark, Mediterranean patio just beyond the gleaming bar, where you can see soft tropical winds rolling off the ocean and through the gauzy white curtains that hang there, for no other reason than to look lovely — and ignore too the exquisite care the bartenders put into their beverages. Your martini doesn't just come with olives; it comes with a tray of assorted olives.
The dapper servers at Sette Bello know the importance of empathy. That's because they aren't just glorified food runners trucking out your linguine with clam sauce or slow-braised osso buco. They're professionals who can feel the ebb and flow of a meal and somehow know your every whim almost before you do. Sit in that romantic dining room with blush walls and sheer curtains and the wait staff will go to work on you like maestros conducting an orchestra. They'll answer any questions you have with care and concern and make sure you know exactly what you're getting. Plates arrive the moment they are supposed to and are delivered and removed with careful efficiency. Your glass will never hit bottom, whether it's in need of another pour of crisp Italian Greco di Tufo or just sparkling water. And you'll never have to ask for silverware or salt or even more sauce to go with your entrée — your waiter will have it spotted and delivered to your table before you've even raised your hand. Most of all, the servers here are a direct link to the kitchen — a conduit between you and chef/owner Franco Filippone. They're his lips gently whispering the praises of local snapper Livornese and Dover sole and his ears receiving your messages and acting upon them with care and alarm. And you can't ask for better service than that.
The walls at Art's BBQ in Coral Springs are covered with posters of blues artists like B.B. King, Robert Johnson, and John Lee Hooker. You gotta figure even legends like them are happy to have a place at Art's, a suburban smokehouse with deep reverence to tradition. The emphasis is on Southern barbecue — slowly smoked ribs, pork, and chicken smothered in a sweet and spicy homemade sauce. Texas-inspired hot links and slow-cooked chicken wings appear alongside pulled pork sandwiches with lots of bark and mac and cheese done creamy and rich. But the ribs are the real star here. Tender and smoky with a toothy bite, these St. Louis-cut bad boys are served over two pieces of plain white bread — a telltale sign of great 'cue, whether in Florida or the Gateway City.
For four weeks in 2003, the blissful concoction we call a milk shake got a bad rap. The simple partnering of milk and ice cream became synonymous with Kelis' ubiquitous song about boys flocking to a yard — for her "Milkshake." Whatever that means, we gather it's not the creamy heaven we're celebrating with this category. And despite how many times she claims all the boys say her milk shake is better than all of our milk shakes, it's highly unlikely that it delights the senses like the shakes at California Burgers & Shakes, an inconspicuous surf-themed burger joint across the street from the Galleria Mall. Delicious and big-strawed — this is key; sizable straws mean you don't have to be a Hoover to get a taste — California Burgers & Shakes crafts the perfect milk shake. Its flawlessly thick consistency needs no spoon. They use real fruit for flavoring. And if your taste buds are up for a little adventure, you can get creative with peanut butter, cookies, or caramel. Feel limited by the standard chocolate, strawberry, vanilla trifecta? Try mint, peppermint, coffee, or pineapple. We don't know about Kelis, but this is the best milk shake of 2010.
C. Stiles
Italians know the value of impeccable ingredients — when you have something as beautiful as a freshly shaved piece of Prosciutto de Parma, what could you possibly do to make it taste better? That's the MO at D'Angelo, a hip new spot for Italian small plates from beloved South Florida restaurateur Elia Angelo. The menu is vast but simple, full of authentic ingredients that prove they're worth far more than any expert technique. The place serves half a dozen fresh carpaccios made from local swordfish, tuna, and salmon; simple appetizers like mozzarella-stuffed zucchini flowers and sautéed clams in tomato broth; and salads such as octopus with Amalfi lemon or calamari and shrimp with green basil pesto. D'Angelo also makes incredible wood-fired pizzas with those same ingredients. It leverages stracchino, taleggio, and burrata cheeses into creamy pizze bianche and spreads San Marzano tomatoes over crackly thin crust for traditional margherita pies. Best of all, the sleek, modern feel of the place coupled with a breezy front patio make D'Angelo a prime spot to sit and enjoy all these fine ingredients the way Italians do: with a bottle of red or white, a few friends, and plenty of time. Bellissimo.
John Linn
The secret to a great taco is in the tortilla, and the ones made at Salvadoran/Mexican restaurant El Guanaco are topnotch. In typical Salvadoran style, the tortillas are prepared thick and made to order. The soft little discs of masa come out a quarter-inch thick and almost creamy on the inside, with a perfectly griddled exterior that folds lovingly around fillings such as moist, chipotle-enhanced chicken breast and slow-stewed lengua. Graced with just the right amount of cilantro and onion, a squirt of lime, and some of El Guanaco's tingling green chili salsa, these tacos are impossible to resist.
John Linn
The vegetarian option at most restaurants often seems like an afterthought. Either you get just rice and beans or they pile in veggie trimmings to fill the void left by the absence of protein. You're left feeling as empty as your burrito. But with tofu seared on the grill and prepared with the same diligence and attention to taste as the beef, chicken, and fish, the fresh-Mex joint the Whole Enchilada could placate the most stubborn of meat eaters. The hearty tofu "Hasselhoff" taco marries the vegetarian staple with a soft corn or crispy flour tortilla (soft flour and soft whole wheat are also options), topped off with the typical: cheese, lettuce or cabbage, and tomato. Add avocado and salsa, varieties of which can be found at the bar. If you can handle spice, we recommend the habanero in the plastic squeeze bottle. In fact, it's not just the tacos. Almost the entire menu can be substituted with tofu: Think quesadillas, burritos, fajitas, and salads.

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